


The Life

by Nastybees



Category: Underfell - Fandom, Underswap - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Boss is a creep, Drug Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forced Prostitution, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Sex Trafficking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nastybees/pseuds/Nastybees
Summary: Words could never describe what he felt when the door closed and he was left alone in this barely furnished room that was disturbingly clean in contrast to the sullied sheets and how disgusting he felt. And looked, probably. Buyers didn't usually care about keeping him in a presentable condition. And after three or four in one day at the very least, he usually looked like he just crawled out of the dump in Waterfall.





	1. Errands

**Author's Note:**

> i've googled so much weird shit for researching this jfc

He squeezed his eyes shut when a loud squeak resounded through the small room as the bed dipped beneath him. He always started questioning how he got into this fuckin' mess in the first place in times like this - when a client had just gotten done with him. But no matter how long he wondered, an answer never came to him. Only regret.

"Buy yourself somethin' pretty." The cigarette strained voice croaks out to him, but he doesn't bother to open his eyes to see what they're referring to. He can't bring himself to care.

Words could never describe what he felt when the door closed and he was left alone in this barely furnished room that was disturbingly clean in contrast to the sullied sheets and how disgusting he felt. And looked, probably. Buyers didn't usually care about keeping him in a presentable condition. And after three or four in one day at the very least, he usually looked like he just crawled out of the dump in Waterfall.

He ran a thumb across one of his ribs to wipe away what he can only assume was a drop of left over ejaculation, recoiling a bit in disgust. Boss would be here soon to pick him up, right? He should, his last client hadn't rushed their session. Peeking his eyes open to glance at the clock on the bedside table, he confirmed that his last partner hadn't left early.

Along with the clock, a lamp emiting a dim yellow light stood, shining down on a few gold coins splayed out beside it. How could he not hear his customer set those down? Distraction, he supposed. His thoughts distracted him a lot. Regardless, the tip was appreciated, even if it wouldn't buy him 'something pretty' like the client suggested.

With the ever so slightly boost in his mood he found the will to get himself dressed. His clothes were folded neatly next to the bed, as he had undressed before Boss left, as per request by his patron. He hooked the gold necklace on first. He always liked that thing, but he didn't really know why. It didn't have any true sentimental value, and it wasn't a gift. He found it a near decade ago at the trash dump - it wasn't anything special. But it meant a lot to him. A reminder of happier times, he supposed.

By the time he slipped the waistband of his shorts over his aching pelvis, the door had creaked open. "Hey, Boss." He tugged the turtleneck over his head with a bit of difficulty, a string of loose thread getting caught on one if his bottom teeth, somehow. He groaned and looked over at his brother helplessly.

The tallest gave that unnerving cackle of his and took a few casual strides to him. "So ungraceful," His voice is low and has a mysterious air to it that Sans had never understood. Without warning a finger was unnecessarily forced into his mouth to unhook the thread. "It's a miracle you bring in so much gold, with such a clumsy nature." Papyrus looked him over hungrily, his tongue sliding over his own sharpened teeth. Sans shivered and shut his eyes again as he expected the worst. He'd met the quoata, hadn't he? He didn't deserve a punishment--

But nothing came. He opened his eyes once more when the familiar clicking of heels against the polished wooden floor hit him. He sighed - relieved - and turned back around to face his pimp who now stood on the other side of the bed. He tossed one of the coins from the small table into the air, catching it with an eagerly open hand. "I suppose your sexual prowess makes up for what you lack in coordination." His hand closed tightly around the shiny metal, and it was clear Sans wouldn't be keeping that tip.

What did Boss do with all this money? The question passed his mind more than he liked to admit, but he never dared to ask. Their house wasn't all that fancy, nor was their food, or any of their belongings. So where did all this goddamn money go? Gambling? Drugs? On second thought - that was probably right. That's what he spent his small share of the money on most of the time, at least. His soul thumped at the thought of being able to go home after his long day. He'd lost count of how many monsters he'd slept with just today, though a good portion of them were regulars. New customers were a rarity in Snowdin. Either way, it was exhausting. He should be used to this by now.

He said nothing in response to his trafficker's backhanded compliment. He just pulled his coat over his shoulders, finding comfort in the voluminous fur around the collar. It smelled familar - faintly of pasta and much more strongly of cigarettes. "Do we have to run any errands?"

"Not tonight. Tomorrow, however, we'll be going to New Home."

Sans' soul sunk. New Home was where everything went wrong. It was the center of all of the slave trading and buying. There was a brothel there where workers could be auctioned off to a new pimp. He'd been there a few times with Boss before. He assumed it was a repurposed hotel with the way it had been set up. Most things were blurry - he was probably high as a goddamn kite every time he'd been there - but he remembered the boisterous shouting of the crowd calling out absurdly low sums of money considering they were trying to buy living, fully sentient beings that should very well be their equal, and the crying. He remembered the crying.

And that wasn't considering the impressive drug scene in there either. Needless to say, New Home wasn't the safest place for him. Or anyone else for that matter. "Oh... What do we have to do?

"There's an event. A festival, I believe." Papyrus stated simply. He headed to the door, beckoning the other to follow with a single wave of his hand, and Sans followed eagerly.

Events were always good for business. And a festival, in a place as populated as New Home, was a gold mine. As long as they could beat the competition. Which... Would be a difficult task. The new information didn't soothe his troubles. New Home was still not a place he wanted to be, and working as hard as he'd have to was not his forte.

He didn't voice his concerns, however, as they traveled down the narrow hallway. Quiet groans emitted from a few of the other doors, and Sans tensed. They exitted through the back door of Grillby's where their small brothel was hidden. It was a good place - in the back of a bar. Discreet and unnoticed. He briefly wondered what the people who didn't know about it would think. They probably wouldn't care, he decided.

Even though illegal, most turned a blind eye to the trafficking happening in their own back yards - sometimes literally. Some claimed it was none of their business or that it simply wasn't happening. Some were suspicious but didn't dare to confront those they thought were involved. Some were actively against it - and he admired those rare monsters who spoke so loudly against it. It gave him a little spark of hope when he thought about it. That just maybe, one day, that small group could save them. It was a long shot, but he hoped nonetheless. He'd probably be dust before that happened.

His mind explored those thoughts until he realized they were mere steps away from their home. They stepped through the door and Boss disappeared into his room without a word. Well, dinner wasn't a thing that was happening, apparently. He climbed the stairs and limped down the hall to his own room.

It was messy as all hell. He never had energy to clean and his Boss never had time. There were only a few bits of floor showing at this point - the rest layered with various bottles articles of clothing. He tiptoed through the mess and plopped onto his frameless mattress, probably the cleanest thing in his room.

It was nice to be in his own bed opposed to the beat up mattress in his room behind Grillby's. And alone. Being on his own like this was something he cherished dearly, even if he mostly slept that time away. Sleep was a privilege he was grateful to be allowed. He knew there were others less fortunate than him, who only slept when they passed out from the sheer exhaustion. He was lucky.

He lifted his pillow to take a look at the plastic bag he'd set there, a plethora of brightly colored tablets inside. Should he? No... Sleep would be difficult, and he'd need sleep to keep himself going tomorrow. He'd save those for the trip. Wait -- were there some missing? He furrowed his brow bones and took inventory. One, two, three...

That bastard snuck into his room and stole two whole tablets while he was gone. He'd bought those with his own money! Boss had more than enough gold - why couldn't he buy his own fucking molly?! He groaned and shoved the pillow back over the bag. He wouldn't confront him. He didn't want to get into a fight. He'd just sneak into Boss' room and steal some of his stuff some other time. Karma, y'know? He'd probably be able to buy some of that cheap altered shit tomorrow. New Home had a lot of it, from what he heard. It wasn't as good as the whole stuff, but it would get the job done.

He sighed and flopped back onto his pillow. On one hand, the faster he fell asleep, the sooner he'd have to wake up. But on the other... The more sleep he got the easier tomorrow would be.

He didn't particularly remember falling asleep, but he was woken up by pounding on the door before it was immediantly opened. He bolted up, rubbing at his eye sockets. That action was soon interupted by Papyrus grabbing his wrist and forcefully hauling him off of the bed. Sans would be more distraught by this if it weren't a frequent morning routine they fell into.

"We have to leave in twenty minutes if we want to have a chance of getting any good jobs. Go clean yourself up and get dressed," Boss commanded. "Wear a short sleeved shirt and shorts." He was released from the painful grip the moment he gave an acquiescent nod.

Papyrus left the room without another word, leaving his brother to gather wrinkled clothes from a pile in the corner. It was a bit surprising that he hadn't gotten a more specific dress code for today. There were days Boss left a folded up pile of clothing for that day at the foot of his bed. Nearly all of his shirts were plainly red or black anyway, so he wasn't sure why it mattered. He picked out - or rather happened to grab - a black shirt with red hems for a bit of flare. Black basketball shorts were the next thing he picked up. It wasn't anything fancy, but based on the instructions he was given he could assume Boss didn't want that. Sometimes blending in to the normal folk was for the best. There were enough signs that he was up for ready to be bought, anyway.

The branding on his arm, was one example. A jagged line carved deeply into the bone that vaguely resembled Papyrus's serrated smile. Everyone working under Papyrus had that symbol tattoed or cut into their flesh, or bone, in Sans' case. It let everyone know who you belonged to, and in most cases, that you were for sale. He knew owners had a way of communicating they had whores ready for a session, but he never really knew what it was. He wasn't allowed to look at other pimps, after all, and therefore he couldn't exactly find similarites in dress or markings.

He grabbed the small bag from under his pillow and wrapped the shirt in his arms around it to conceal it before he made his way to the bathroom. The room was way too small, giving him just enough room to undress between the sink and the wall. The toilet took up too much space for Sans' liking, considering it was really only for guests and throwing up in, but he dealt with it. There was maybe four square feet of walking space, but... Papyrus always argued it was easier to clean like this. Maybe that was true, what did he know?

Boss had told him to get cleaned up. But he'd spent a little too much time with his thoughts as he gathered his clothes for the day... Did he even have time for a shower? Probably not, and that wasn't a risk he'd like to take. He'd been doing such a good job with avoiding punishments. Wash cloth bath it was, then.

He peeled the clothes he slept in off his faintly yellowed bones, leaving them on a heap on the tiled floor. He'd keep his necklace on, he decided. Boss didn't say anything for or against it, so it should be alright. He dug under the sink for a clean wash cloth. He found one with a bit of difficulty - Boss hadn't done laundry in a few days - and ran it under the tap water. This probably wasn't the most effective way of cleaning oneself, but he didn't exactly have a lot of time. He'd make it work.

He wrung the cloth in the sink and scrubbed at his left forearm. He could feel how brittle the bone was from malnutrition. It was a miracle he hadn't crumbled beneath a client. With only one HP, they already had to be careful with him. Another thing he was lucky for. He didn't have to deal with rougher gang bangs or patrons who got off on hurting him. Boss made sure other workers got those. A double edged sword, he supposed. He didn't have to deal with it, but because of him other's would have to suffer through it. He sighed and brushed the thought away. He couldn't do anything to help them.

He flinched as he ran the damp cloth across his ribs. There were shallow, half-healed cracks spaning across a few of his ribs. Left overs from an incident with Papyrus that really should have dusted him. He scrubbed over his collar bone and down his right arm where left overs from time alone that got a little too lonely resided. He frowned at the half healed cracks in his forearm as the soft fabric caught in one. That was enough. He probably wasn't clean enough by Boss' standard - he hadn't even bothered with his legs or pelvis - but he wouldn't exactly be lying when he said he did get cleaned up.

The cloth was tossed lamely to the side and replaced in Sans' grasp was the small plastic bag. He was still pissed Boss had stolen two tablets.. That would have been almost a whole work day's worth of happiness. Fuck it - he'd get through this, he had enough money to buy more in New Home. The last three would be more than enough for today. He popped two into his mouth and slipped the last one into the right pocket of his shorts as he pulled them on. He'd save that for if things got bad, or... No. Things would be bad. There was no other outcome. He'd need that last pill.

He jumped - the loud banging on the bathroom door enough to shake it. "We have to leave." Boss' voice rung loud and grating. God, he couldn't wait for the molly to kick in.

"Okay, okay!" He wriggled the new shirt on over his head, leaving his dirty clothes from yesterday in a crumpled pile on the tile floor. Just as he did, Papyrus burst in and grabbed him by the wrist, nearly dragging him from the small room. He's pulled down the stairs so forcefully he almost falls multiple times. Before he even knows what's happening, a leather cuff is clasped around his wrist, a dull gold chain connecting it to another strap. He hated having to wear these things in public, but... At least it wasn't the collar. This was much more subtle.

"Thank you Sir." He said; voice small and monotonous in his rehearsed response. It earned him an affectionate pat on the head despite the words robotic nature. He hurried to the doorway and slipped on his beat up old sneakers that were practically falling apart at this point. They weren't pretty, but they served their function.

"Good boy." And with a tug on with what might as well be a leash - Sans was pulled out the door and into the snowy environment outside. The snow seeped into his shoes and dampened his socks as quick footsteps struggled to keep up with Boss' long strides. He knew if he didn't keep up he'd be dragged there instead.

The boat ride to Hotland was uneventful. The Riverperson babbled on and on about gossip while Papyrus shot venomous glares into the back of their hood - or so he imagines. He doesn't look up from the rushing water beneath them; idly letting his fingertips glide across the surface. He wasn't upset. Or even nervous, really. A good sign the drugs were kicking in, thank fuck. He couldn't see himself getting through today without them, at least not without a mental breakdown. Clients didn't usually like it when he cried during sex. ...then again, some of them got off on it.

He doesn't remember getting off the boat - or walking through Mettaton's restaurant, for that matter - but he awakes from the figurative dead when Boss is rubbing something off of his cheek. He doesn't know what he missed or how. "B-Boss?" He stammers and whips his head around to observe his surroundings. He thinks they're in an elevator? "What are you doing?"

Papyrus grunts, his thumb still scraping against the smaller's cheek. "You blanked out again didn't you? Dammit Sans - the hell is wrong with you?" Apparently the question is completely rhetorical because he keeps going. "One of Alphys' whores wished you luck and kissed you. Now you're covered in disgusting lipstick. Trashy skank..."

Oh. Sans didn't remember any of that. Papyrus was probably referring to Bratty or Catty, both of them were fairly nice to him. They stuck by the philosophy that escorts should stick together, even if they worked under different pimps. The life was a hard one, and he'd be stupid to disagree that it was nice to have other's that understood. With a bit more thought, he decided he considered them friends. Though, he didn't care for the other workers here in hotland. Burgerpants was a shithead - though he couldn't completely blame him - and Mettaton made his metaphorical blood boil. He was Alphys' bottom bitch. His job was easier, practically a princess in the prostitution hierarchy. He got the easy jobs. He got to lure innocent fans into their web and force them to work under Alphys through bribes and empty promises of fame and fortune... It made him sick.

When he wasn't on happy pills. Fortunately, that wasn't the case.

The elevator that takes them from the Core to New Home arrives with a 'ding', the doors swooshing open to reveal the grayscale city before them save for colorful flags and streamers that dotted the area. It was a festival, after all, even if they were a bit early and the streets were nearly barren.

Boss gives him a little push against his spine, urging him to move. "Well? Go on."

Sans happily obliges.


	2. Hallucinating?

A lanky skeleton peeked around the brick wall he used as cover, the hood of his jacket helping him stay shrouded in darkness. 

"Do you see them?" A hushed whisper comes from beside him and his hoodie is tugged on by a smaller hand. 

"Yeah." His eyes are set on the brothers wandering down the decorated street. As interesting as that tall edgy one looked, he had his eyes on the one walking ahead of him. The one with a leather cuff on his wrist attaching him to the other. "God, that's fucked." 

"What?" 

"Take a look for yourself, Sansy." The tallest stepped away and motioned the other to look out of the alleyway. And he did - his expression falling when he spotted the duo. There was a version of himself being treated like a goddamn pet, by a version of his own brother. It hurt his soul to see that. He knew what he was getting into however, and so did Papy. They needed to help. "What's the plan?"

"I talked to some people earlier, and I think this Sans is... A prostitute?" 

That made the Sans in front of him whip around in alarm. His face contorted in a mixture of concern and mild disgust. "Excuse me?" 

"It's just rumors that i've heard so far, nothing set in stone, but theres definitely a sex trafficking issue here." 

The smaller rubbed at his face as he processed this new information. He felt sick thinking about it. "Do we... Buy him?" He felt gross just saying those words. This was him, after all, and he couldn't even begin to imagine how much pain his counterpart is in right now. 

He nodded. "I'll talk to his Papyrus and try to buy him. You head back to the hotel, one way or another i'll bring him back there."

"No matter how many times we do this, I still find it weird to hear you call someone else Papyrus." Sans gave his brother a playful punch to the arm. "Are you sure you'll be okay? I don't know if it's a good idea for you to be alone." 

"I'll be okay, bro. The hotel isn't that far away." 

And with that, the other gave a teasing salute. "Yes Sir." And he was gone. Unfortunately, the two brothers from this universe were out of sight as well. Papyrus sighed. He strolled out from the alleyway and into the main street - It was almost pleasant here, at least during a festival. A disturbing amount of monsters wore black and red clothing, matching most of the flags and ribbons adorning the dull looking buildings. It was aesthetically pleasing to be honest, but now was no such time to be admiring how well the colors complimented each other. He needed to find his world's Sans, who in keeping with the red and black theme, had gotten lost in the masses. 

Until he spotted the version of himself leaning against a wall with the smaller skeleton sitting at his feet like a dog; sitting on his shins with his knees spread and his hands placed between them. At what looked like a popular intersection, no less. In that moment he knew the rumors about this Sans were true. 

\---

A tug to the chain brought Sans' attention to the mysterious figure aproaching. He was tall and thin, wearing a black hoodie with the sleeves cut off rather sloppily. He walked with an intent Sans picked up on instantly. He was a customer. 

As he stepped closer, he could clearly see that the monster was a skeleton. Face long and cheekbones protruding in a way that reminded him of Papyrus, though lacking the scars and faintly slanted eye sockets. Oh. And sharp teeth. This mystery skeleton's teeth were straight and blunt across in a way that made Sans a little too jealous. Maybe he wouldn't always snag is teeth on random shit if they were like that.

He was so busy staring at this dudes teeth and spacing off that he hadn't realized he started talking to Boss in hushed whispers that he couldn't understand from his place on the ground. It was probably the normal exchange. Location, how many monsters involved, what services he wanted, how much time... And finally, payment. 

When the new monster handed over a large sum of gold from the hoodie of his pocket, Sans' eye sockets widen. 

He was either keeping him for a long time, or he had some kinky shit planned. 

He thanked god for molly in this moment. He would be much more wary of this unfamiliar figure paying a suspicious amount of money for him if it weren't for the drugs. He's always more trusting after he's taken it - which is a fortunate side effect for his job. Most of the time. 

Boss jerked him up to his feet causing him to stumble. "Be a good boy." He growled lowly, passing the chain attatched to Sans' wrist over to his buyer. 

He's dragged, rather roughly, down the main street and into the alley the much taller skeleton had originally emerged from. When they turn a corner far out of Boss' field of vision the chain drops and clinks against the cobbled ground. "Sorry about that." His customer said, turning to give him a grin. This is the first Sans has really been able to hear his voice. Besides sounding laid back and gentle, he sounded like Boss. He had the same rasp from use of cigarettes. He wondered if he and Papyrus would sound the same if Boss were softer. He laughed at the thought and the man in front of him gave him a weird look. 

"I'm on ecstasy." He figured that's a good enough of an explanation. He wouldn't be laughing if he weren't on it, anyway. 

The look of confusion turns into... God, what is that? Pity? Empathy? It's something like that, alright. 

"Anyway..." The Boss look alike shook his head. "The name's Stretch." 

"...Sans." What was up with this guy, bein' all friendly? He just wanted to fuck and get it over with. His customers usually the wanted the same. 

"I know." Stretch said simply. He turned on his heel to keep walking, leaving Sans to follow on his own, without the persuasion of the chain. The metal of said chain dragged across the dirty stone as he obediently followed. He was curious to know what would happen if he made a run for it, but he didn't dare in fear of his punishment. Buyers who paid such a large sum of money didn't appreciate him disobeying, nor did Boss.

Sans followed him into a hotel. Not a shitty motel run down with bed bugs either, this was a nice hotel with a fancy restaurant and everything. This guy had to have been loaded. He stared down at his feet as he walked - hole-infested sneakers making him feel incredibly out of place when he sees them against the polished marble floor. He doesn't say anything when he joined Stretch in the elevator, though he can feel his worried gaze burning into the back of his skull.

He isn't upset. Or scared, even. He mostly just doesn't know what to do with himself with a john who treats him with kindness. Regardless, he thinks he might be able to enjoy himself between the kind patron and the molly. That would be a damn miracle to have a good time for once. 

He jumped both when the elevator dings and his hand is clasped in the other's as he's guided down a hallway to one of the last doors. Stretch knocked and Sans feels a bit of a sinking feeling in his soul. There was someone else? That would explain the amount of gold that was paid--

The sliding of the lock was heard and the door opened to reveal another smiling skeleton. This new one was slightly shorter and thinner than Sans, lights in his eyes blue rather than red. If it weren't for the color of those lights and the straightness of his teeth, he could've easily passed for Sans.

Okay, maybe he was hallucinating. That would make more sense than finding a monster that bared such a resemblance to him. Right?

"Nice to meet you!" The near clone chirped. He looked him over, but not with the hunger Sans was used to. He didn't look at him like a piece of meat. But maybe he was still hallucinating. The small skeleton removed his gaze to look up at Stretch. "Did you tell him?"

"I wanted to wait until he met you. You seem to have a way of putting it that makes people understand, y'know?" 

Sans could only assume they were refering to some really fucked up kinky shit as he was motioned inside the hotel room. Naturally, he started stripping as soon as the door was closed, hands grasping at the hem of his shirt to prepare to pull it over his head. 

"W-Wait!" The blue eyed skeleton exclaimed, rushing to stop him by putting his hands on the other's forearms. He eyed the carving for a brief moment with an almost fearful glint in his sockets before an expression of determination washed over him; his eyelights rising to meet with Sans'.

"We don't want to have sex with you."


	3. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the shitshow that's chapter three lmao

"You - you what?"

Sans' face twisted in confusion and disbelief. There was no way in hell he could've heard that right. No way.

"We don't want to have sex with you." The other repeated, slowly and softly. "We just want to talk with you."

His confusion only grew as he was led to sit on the edge of the bed. Okay. They didn't want to have sex with him. So either these two weirdos were part of the anti-trafficking group or they were using him as a captive. With how much money everyone either knew or assumed Papyrus had in his possession, it wouldn't be the first time it had happened. They all thought a handsome sum would be payed to get him back. They never ended up with any gold from those situations. Just a pile of their own dust. Boss wouldn't pay to get Sans back - that would be a poor buisiness practice. Though, he had no trouble killing the captors of his property. "What do ya want from me?"

"First of all... My name's Blue." The smallest skeleton took a seat next to him and placed an unsettlingly caring hand on Sans' kneecap. He doesn't know what to make of it, but he tensed up regardless. "We don't want anything from you. We're here to help."

Sans stared blankly. He turned his head slowly to look at the monster who had originally bought him, who now leaned against the wall in a similar pose Papyrus had when Stretch first approached. He gave him a nod and a lazy smile. "H...How?"

"We're going to get you out of here." Blue's voice resonated with a comforting sort of confidence that filled Sans' soul with hope and determination. "It'll be easy. Papy and I--" Sans' hope faded only to be replaced by dull confusion.

"Wait. Papy?" His browbones furrowed as he turned to face the one against the wall once again. That was the nickname he'd given Boss when they were children... Between the two suspiciously kind skeletons looking oddly similar to himself and his brother, and Blue calling the Papyrus look alike 'papy', he was starting to wonder if he was going crazy. Or his molly was fucked up. Maybe both. Either way, something was wrong. "Who the fuck are you guys?"

Both sighed simultaneously, gazes fixed on the floor. "My name's Papyrus," Stretch said after a few too many awkward seconds. "That's Sans, my brother. We aren't from this--"

"Stop fuckin' with me. What're your real names?" The red Sans nearly growled the words. He was becoming frustrated with not knowing what in the living hell what was going on, and these assholes playing with his head weren't helping in the slightest.

The imposter Sans shook his head in exasperation. "You can't just tell him that so unceremoniously! We have to build it up and explain everything first, so he doesn't freak out!" He scolded.

Stretch doesn't seem to be too upset; in fact he looked almost amused at his brother's admonishing. "Now, if our guest will let me talk," He shot a look at Sans that made him hunch over, curling in on himself instinctually. It was good natured, but it was hard for him to tell apart a teasing glare from a very real, irritated one. "I was going to explain." Stretch pushed him self away from the wall cooly and sauntered over to the bed. Sans flinched when the bed dipped beneath him and he was now trapped sitting between the two peculiar monsters.

"My brother and I are universe hoppers." He kept going before Sans could cut in and tell him that didn't sound possible, whatever it was. "We aren't supposed to exist in this dimension, but instead of us, it's you and your Papyrus. Or, instead of you in our native universe, it's us."

Sans stared blankly, seemingly unhearing.

"Think of it like this! There's a coloring book called the multiverse. Each page is has these monsters in it and their own world to live in. Each page is has the same monsters, same world, but with differences like the monster's clothes and their personalities, and each page is being colored uniquely with it's own traits and dynamics. Those monsters on the pages are you and everyone you know, and each page is a universe. I'm you, from another page in the book." Blue explained.

"...Okay..." Sans nodded slowly, processing the new, strange information.

Stretch doesn't know how that made any more sense than his explication did, but then again, Sans was drugged up and his mind probably wasn't working in a completely conventional way. He stayed silent after that - it'd be better for Blue, who thought of it in a less scientific way and a more imaginative, magical way, to explain the rest to someone who was unaware of... Well, any of this.

As if he read the next question on Sans' fuzzy mind, Blue continued. "And Stretch is Papyrus from another page. The same one as me. He built this... This magnificent machine that could go from page to page. He's a genius, really." He paused his speech to give a dorky grin up at his brother, who only waved his hand dismissively in response. "We went to a few other pages. Pretty soon... We realized we had it really good. Almost every other page we went to, something was... Wrong. We even found a page nearly identical to ours! There was only one difference from what we could tell! And it was that... That version's of me's brother put his hands on him without his permission."

A somber, awkward silience cursed the air until Blue sucked in a sharp breath and continued talking. "So we decided we'd try to fix as much as we could, on every page we could find. Not to toot my own horn, but I like to think we've helped quite a bit! And now we're here to help you!"

Sans stared at the wall for what felt like minutes before he finally flopped back onto the queen sized bed situated in the center of the hotel room. Normally he would've noted how soft the sheets were and how cusioned and unused the mattress felt with no springs poking uncomfortably from the fabric. However, his brain was a bit to full to house such mundane thoughts. Despite how irrational the claims sounded, he truthfully didn't have any reason not to believe them. And if they were lying, what's the worst they could do to him that hadn't already been done? Kill him? He wouldn't be against that. He'd had enough near-death experiences - some at his own hands, even - that he came to peace with death long ago. "I trust you." He said all at once, earning surprised looks from the brothers on either side of him.

Needless to say, they were expecting to have to do way more explaining than they had before he started blindly trusting them. Most monsters they helped in other universes had to see their machine, or sometimes even use it, before they believed a single word they said. Blue looked at the Papyrus in disblief, almost asking for some sort of explanation he was sure he wouldn't get.

Stretch only shrugged and stated the only thing he knew that might have any form of relevance. "He's on MDMA...?" He whispered, as if Sans couldn't hear him anyway.

The smaller gasped audibly, head snapping back to look at Sans. He shouldn't be surprised. He really shouldn't. This wouldn't be the first case of drug use they'd seen in other universes, or the second, or third, or tenth. Heck, even their own universe had it. Mr. Stank Pot-Hoodie over there knew it better than anyone. But it was tame. There wasn't a lot harsher than marijuana where they were from, which they considered a blessing. But, in a universe as rough as this one... He definitely shouldn't be surprised as he was. No matter how many times he saw another Sans doing it, though, he still never got over it. It was still weird. "You really trust us?"

"Yeah." Sans' answer was plain and simple as he stared up at the hotel room ceiling.

"If you trust us... Can you take your clothes off, please?"

Blue turned back to his brother in alarm. Where did that come from? They should really avoid making him uncomfortable, and asking him to strip certainly wasn't avoiding that. "What are you doing?!"

"Remember Puppy?" Blue gave a quiet nod, unquesioning. He understood, as uncomfortable as this made him.

Sans seemed unphased as he stood up from the bed and peeled his shirt off. It didn't take long for it to get caught on something. The chain attatched to his wrist, this time. He shook his arm to get it off. "Sure. It's what you payed for. What're you gonna do to me?" He didn't sound bitter, or accusing, it just sounded like a normal question. Like he was asking something simple along the lines of "how're you today?", or "what's your name?".

Stretch frowned. "I'm not gonna do anything. We just have to make sure you aren't in need of healing, and that you don't have a tracker of some sort on you."

Blue stared at him; sympathetic eyes burning into Sans' ribcage like a lazer, or the cigarette burns that laced his spine. His could only imagine what the rest of the scars and markings were from. Some of them looked so harsh he didn't want to imagine. Sans still seemed unphased despite the eyes that watched him with such pity.

He kicked his sneakers off without bothering to untie them. His shorts came off next, falling down around his ankles to allow him to step out of the legs. "Welp." He held his arms out at his sides in something vaguely similar to a shrug.

The other two were silent, staring at his lower half in a way that made Sans embarrased. Which... Was a difficult feat. He wouldn't be ashamed if they stared with a predatory, hungry gaze, but this completely crestfallen expression on their faces as they observed him filled him with insecurity. Did he really look that fucked up?

Stretch's gaze is fixated on the criss cross scars covering his femurs that he knew all too well what they were from. He'd seen this before, far too many times. It seemed all too common for Sanses. Blue peered a bit higher, however, focused in confusion at the magic formed at Sans' pelvis. He shouldn't have that summoned, right? That only formed in preparation for intercourse. Or at least he thought - He never really took interest in these sorts of things. He only knew because of.. Other Sanses, particularly the other Blue he had met. When he realized that he was practically goggling at his privates he looked down at the carpet. He didn't want to be rude.

"May I ask why you have that conjured?" Blue asked as politely as he possibly could. Stretch seemed to finally notice the red glow between the Sans' legs at Blue's question, jaw falling slack.

"I can't not have it." When he only recieved inquisitive, confused stares, he spread his legs apart somewhat. Just enough to reveal a small gold piercing placed vertically on his clitoral hood. He certainly isn't shy. "This stops me from gettin' rid of it. Same thing on my tongue." He stuck out the faintly glowing red magic from his mouth to show what he meant.

"Well... C-Can't you take those out?"

"Boss won't let me."

"B-Boss...?" It sounded like it was a question, but... Blue knew. They'd been through this before with a couple of other universes.

"Uh. Papyrus." When was the last time he said his name out loud like that? Jesus christ. "He says he doesn't want me dissipating it during a job. Can't blame him."

"...'Boss' can't tell you what to do anymore."

Sans froze. He felt like his soul dropped to where his stomach would be if he had one. The say of those words filled him with a mix of hope and fear that he'd yet to experience before now. He was free? Oh, god, he was free. His legs gave out beneath him, leaving him to fall to his knees with a dull 'thump.' A weak sob escaped him as he crumpled down to the floor, doubled over in tears. If he heard those words without the ecstasy, he probably would have cried anyway. It only heightened his euphoria - making him feel like he was floating even if he couldn't even keep himself standing up at the moment. Boss couldn't tell him what to do anymore.

He hadn't noticed the hands on his bare back until they ones they belonged to spoke. "Hey, hey, wh-what's wrong?" Blue spoke in a comforting tone. Quiet, not the berating tone that usually yelled at him if he cried. He choked out a sob at the thought of not having to hear that voice again... Even if he knew he was getting his hopes up perhaps too much.

A second set of hands much larger than the ones on his back gently clasped around one of his own hands, silently trying to comfort him.

"Oh g-go-oo-d, i'm s-safe... I'm..." His vision started blackening around the edges and he closed his eyes in an attempt to get rid of it, or at least ignore.

\---

"S-Sans?"

"Wha..." When Sans opened his eyes again, he's on the bed? It isn't one of the beds at Grillby's, and it certainly isn't his own. Too soft. Two figures hover above him, finally coming into sight. He remembered where he was, and what was happening. Oh.

"You blacked out..."

"You okay, Bud?"

He gave a weak nod and lifted his head to look down at himself. Still no shirt, but at least the two other brothers had the decency to slip his shorts back onto him. "How... How long was I out?"

"About twenty minutes."

Okay. Nothing to worry about then, that was normal. "Oh. Guess I got too happy. Heh." A humorless chuckle escaped him as he propped himself up on his elbows. His mind certainly felt a little clearer for whatever reason.

The two brothers hovering above him didn't question it. He obviously didn't want to hand them an explanation on a silver platter. Getting out of here was more important, they could get information later. They'd have to move quickly if they wanted to have extra time. With how much time Stretch had literally bought them, they had roughly twenty minutes before he'd be showing up.

"Our machine is in Waterfall. We'll take you back to our world for now, where you'll be safe. Your Papyrus should be here in about twenty minutes, so we need to get a move on. Put your shirt back on, please?" Stretch hopped off the bed to grab a couple of duffle bags from underneath it.

Blue tossed him the shirt from the floor as he sat up. "What - what if we run into him on the way there? Waterfall is pretty far away. He'd find me before we got there."

"Let's just say... I have shortcuts. Shortcuts that won't let him see you. But you have to trust me." The tallest skeleton turned to give him a reassuring grin as he slung the strap of the bags over his shoulder.

Was there any other choice besides trusting him? There were two outcomes, a good one and a bad one, and the bad one would happen to him if he didn't try to escape anyway. May as well take the chance for the good ending. Sans tugged his shirt over his skull and shook the chain out from the sleeve when he pulled his arm through the appropriate hole.

"That's... Not a tracker, right? That cuff?"

"No, but--" Sans' words were cut short by the all too familiar pounding on the door. His soul skipped a beat.

"Fuckin' hell, he's early." Stretch murmured and held out his arm to Blue from across the bed, who in turn held firmly onto his brother's wrist. The Papyrus holds onto the other Sans as well, but when the crackle of teleportation magic snaps through the air one is left behind.

The cuff was in no way shape or form a tracking device. Rather, a blocker for the transportation magic that risked kidnapping or running away. He scrambles off the bed ungracefully. Maybe if he hid, Boss would think he'd gotten away and leave--

He saw a flash of light just before he was able to crawl underneath the bed and the smell of burnt wood penetrated the room. Did - Did he seriously blast the fuckin' door open? There had to be a better way to get in here, not that Sans wanted him here at all. Heels clinked against the floor, footsteps with an obvious intent. Sans had to clasp his hands over his mouth to keep his pathetic, fearful sobs from being heard and getting him caught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy with the feedback i've gotten on this fic so far - my god, thank you guys.
> 
> (P.S, totally got the name 'Puppy' for Swapfell Paps from my friend Obby (Obsessiontale)'s fic Oh God, Please, Please Help Me. Highly recommended if you like pain and sadness. Which, if you're here, you probably do. ;^)
> 
> You can read it here!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8741665


	4. Assault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some violent shit in this chapter, you have been warned bucko

"Oh, god, Papy - We.. We have to go back!" Blue paced in front of Stretch's invention anxiously, his eye lights darting around to look at nothing in particular. Sans got left behind...! They had to go back!

"It's too dangerous."

"That's exactly why we have to go back and get him! Wh-What if something happens to him? If it was the other Papyrus at the door he's going to hurt him! You saw all those scars!"

Stretch rubbed at his eye sockets. He knew Sans would get hurt. But if they went back... His Sans might get hurt, too. 'Might' was being conservative. And he couldn't take seeing something like that again. "We won't be able to get him out of here by putting you in danger. I can't do this without you, and you know that."

Blue stopped dead in his tracks. Shaky hands curled into fists as he whipped around to stare his brother straight in the eye sockets. No humor or playfulness could be seen in his eerily dark-filled eyes. "What's the point of coming here if we can't save him." It wasn't a question.

Stretch flinched. It was scary when his Sans' eye lights when out like that. If not for the creepiness of the deep void-like nature of his empty sockets, for the fact that this only happened when the usually chipper skeleton was deathly serious. Which... Wasn't often, thank god. It freaked him out.

"We have to go back, Papyrus."

Click. Click. Click. Click.

The heels of Boss' boots against the wooden floor made a sound that horrified Sans; struck fear into his soul like few other noises could. He had to stay quiet. Letting Boss know that he was still in the room, it might be the death of him.

"I can smell you, Brother."

Click.

"You reek of cry-baby and betrayal."

Click.

"Hiding will only make this worse for you."

Sans could see the sharp, red boots from underneath the bed now. He couldn't breathe. Breath was caught shallowly in ribcage; begging simultaneously to released while also needing more. Unfortunately for him, trying to breathe in such a panicked situation wasn't a quiet struggle.

The slow clicks came to a dead stop. "Ah, there you are Sans." He said with a sickening casualty - like he had been looking for his brother to tell him to clean his room, or some other mundane task that Sans was usually too lazy to do without being threatened first. Not whatever the hell he had planned. Sans shrunk back when Boss' clawed hand came into view as the other bent down. "Come." He beckoned his brother like a dog. Nothing new.

He shouldn't. He shouldn't disobey. He shouldn't force himself into more trouble than he was already in. But fear got the best of him, causing him to wriggle himself further under the bed than he already was. The leash attatched to his wrist stayed within Boss' reach, and perhaps things may have ended better if it went unnoticed. Of course, with Sans' luck, it didn't. Stars, he swore he had some sort of curse on him that prevented the universe from showing mercy in any form, towards him at least.

"Pet..." Papyrus urged. His spindly fingers grasping the leather strap and giving it a forceful tug. What was probably supposed to be a warning was suddenly very much like a punishment.

Sans cried out; brittle bones feeling like they woud break at any moment from being strained. His shoulder blades scraped against the bottom of the bed. He may not have thought out this hiding place well enough... The new Sans he'd met may have been able to fit under here with ease, seeing how thin he was. He was much bulkier, though, and being forced out of here without the careful planning he could do on his own accord wasn't going to be pain-free. "B-Boss!"

"What?" Papyrus spat. "What do you want? What do you think you deserve so badly?"

"Pl-Please, don't-- l-let go! I'll come out on my own! I'll b-be a good boy!" It hurt. It hurt. For fucks sake, he just wanted to stop. The pulling at his weak joints made it feel like his arm would rip out of his socket at any moment. He was going to fall apart.

"Oh, what a delicate flower you are... You've had worse. You can take a gentle tug to your arm." The bastard had the audacity to pull harder. The smaller was out from under the bed now, but--

Sans screams. The thing was - this was far from a 'gentle tug' and his bones were fragile as glass from how little food he was given. Sometimes he noticed small, thin flakes of bone coming straight off if he scraped his arm against something. So, no, he couldn't take a fucking so-called gentle tug to the arm. There was a sickening rip that went unheard, drowned out by another scream that wracked Sans' entire frame. So loud he couldn't hear anything else. Not the panicked voices (there were other people in the room? Sans couldn't remember) or even Boss' reaction to whatever the hell happened to make his arm hurt with this searing, white-hot pain that made his vision cut out completely. His consciousness followed suit.

\---  
"--can take a gentle tug to the arm."

The crackle of magic and misplaced air were drowned out by that first gut-wrenching scream. it tied Blue's figurative stomach in tight, horrid knots, freezing him to that one spot with how jarring the noise from under bed had been. The second scream, though... That had to have been the worst sound he'd ever heard, and god, had he heard some unpleasant noises throughout their travels. This scream though - desperate, truly, the first had seemed like a plea in comparison to this cry of... raw, unbridled agony. From the angle the two brothers were stuck in place, a diagonal view over the corner of the bed, they could only see this world's Papyrus with his arm reeled back like he was... Pulling on something.

Out of the corner of Blue's eye socket he could vaguely see his brother fold in on himself, heaving when an arm came into their view, attached to the leather cuff and only the cuff. Jagged edges bled marrow from where the appendage had been brutally torn from it's owner, just below the elbow. Blue felt like a ball of fire had been ignited within his ribcage; a rage that couldn't be contained in such a little body. He needed to let it out.

His limbs seemed to move without command as he fucking dragged the bastard away from the bed with uncanny strength. Catching him off guard gave him the upper hand, fist mercilessly slamming into Boss' jaw over, and over, and over again until Blue saw a shark-like tooth fall loose. Even then, he didn't stop. He couldn't. This Papyrus just... ripped his own brother's arm off, and he hadn't had the decency to at least pretend to be remorseful. This man was the incarnation of Satan himself, in Blue's eyes. Knuckles cracked as bone hit bone countless times - the sound of it drowning out the curses and protests from his victim. "You fucking son of a bitch!" He growled in a voice almost as rough as the other Sans'; each word punctuated by a jarring crack against the other's skull. He didn't swear like that often. The word's seemed to have more power when used sparingly, saved just for special occasions, like stubbing your toe. This seemed to fit the bill just fine.

He'd been so occupied beating the hell out of Boss he hadn't even noticed Stretch move from the spot they'd teleported to. Until he heard high-pitched, panicked muttering from where Boss had been before he pulled him away. Tightening his grip on Boss' shirt to insure he wouldn't get away, he glanced over his shoulder to see what was going on.

"Oh god. oh. god, no, no, no." Stretch felt like he was going to be sick. Again. Red smeared across the floor, leaking from both the severed arm and the stump it had been torn from. Sans' was clearly unconscious, his eye sockets shut and teeth parted slightly. He almost looked... peaceful, like he was sleeping. But pink-tinted tear stains down his cheeks and crimson soaked floors showed otherwise. "Blue, we - we gotta go."

"Ah!" The small Sans let out a surprised yelp as his back hit the ground. This new, evil Papyrus had reversed their positions - leaving Blue completely pinned as Boss hovered above him. "You fucking cunt." The Papyrus growled. "First I overhear that you want to steal my property, then you assault me? I should dust your pretty little ass right now."

Blue wished he could melt into the floor - anything to get as far away from the offender as possible. He was so... Big, on top of him. His shoulders broad and grip firm. He wasn't a monster you wanted looming over you at a time like this. A pitiful whimper left him despite his attempts to choke it down; any courage he'd gathered dripped away into fear when sharp teeth - one of them missing now, thanks to Blue - were pressed to his own.

The blue Sans had expected to get punched or... Something violent as a return for what he had done. A kiss? As rough and emotionless as it was, that was still the furthest thing from what he had expected. He wanted to push him away, but the evil Papyrus had such a firm grasp on his wrists that it made escape impossible. His legs had also been made immobile by the tall skeleton, leaving kicking out of the question. He would just have to take it. But... What was more disturbing and made Blue tense, was a slimy... Something, slithering across his teeth. He hoped it was a tongue. Oh, stars, he hoped it was a tongue and not some obscure, magical appendage. He didn't dare open his eyes to find out until the feeling stopped and the other's grip on him was eased.

"However, dusting your pretty little ass would be a waste..." Papyrus started, what Blue could now confirm was a tongue sliding over his own teeth. "I'd rather do something more useful with it...~"

Blue's breath hitched. He could be naive and unknowledgeable at times, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what this bastard was suggesting. And... It scared him. Before he could protest in any way, he was let go. Not out of mercy, but because this world's native Papyrus had been knocked off of him after being hit with a bone attack straight to the ribs. Or rather, through the ribs. Blue didn't have to look over to know that it was one of his brother's.

When he did look over, however, he saw Papy, expression more frightened and pissed than he had ever seen him at once before. Sans was being carried limply in his arms while their duffle bags for traveling still slung over his shoulders. Blue was thankful that his brother wore a black hoodie over the tangerine colored one he normally wore back home. This scene would be far more gruesome if he had, red fluids spurting from the stump that was Sans' arm; a combination of his magic and marrow. It was clearly making a mess of Papyrus' attire, though the colors concealed it well.

Finally somewhat shaken from his shock, Blue scrambled up from his place on the floor. They needed to go. Sans wouldn't last long in this condition if he hadn't fallen already. Based on experience, it seemed that most Sanses only had 1HP. There were only a few exceptions that he knew of, including himself. Not knowing about this world's Sans, however... "C-C'mon..." With a shaky hand, he held onto the other San's dangling arm to have contact between the three of them. He turned back to look at the injured Papyrus once more; bone attack still lodged between two of his ribs with notches in them where it had hit. The bastard's glare was hateful and icy, and Blue took that split second before they teleported to flip him off.

\----

Stretch teleported them to their special machine. His soul pounded within his ribcage, fear and panic and anger washing over him all at once with no care for the thought that needed to go into this situation. He didn't think, he just moved.

He thanked the stars above that his brother, however, seemed to have a clearer mind. Or in the very least, acted in a much faster, rational way than the taller of the two brothers.

Blue lifted the unconcious skeleton from his arms with an ease that only a trainee royal guard member could. He was surprisingly strong for how small he was - something Stretch was incredibly thankful for in the moment. He could move, sure, but anything having to do with the injured Sans caused him to freeze. He was just... Scared. They'd never lost someone, not like this anyway. Never the victim. Never in such a dire set of circumstances.

"Alright, Papy, I-I need the duffle bag--" Blue sputtered out. He laid the red-drenched version of himself on the already cramped floor of their machine. It wasn't like they had anywhere else. Being the neat-freak he was, the thought briefly popped into his head that the growing puddle of a mess would be a nightmare to clean, but-- christ, he couldn't focus on that. He shoved the thought away and dug into the duffle bag the second it was dropped in front of him with the jagged teeth of the zipper already pried apart.

Of course they had first aid supplies. Hopping from one dangerous and torn apart universe to the next required such things. They'd had to use them at least once nearly every trip between the two brothers and anyone they were trying to help. And sometimes, in return, they'd be given more supplies for their help and to give them a way to continue their service. Luckily because of this, he would be able to help this new Sans. ...Hopefully.

Blue gathered gauze and antibacterial wash with tremulous hands. His fear was evident despite his best efforts to keep himself calm... Not doing so may result in a fatality. He didn't want someone to die because he let his mind become clouded with panic. He couldn't let that happen. The slow rise and fall of Sans' ribcage reasurred him that there was still a chance. He was still alive.

He wasted much more of the antibacterial fluid than he needed as he washed the stump; but with his shaky hands it was practically impossible to control the amount that poured from the bottle. Besides - better safe than sorry. The more of the cleansing liquid he put on the would the cleaner it would be, right? They could always get more. His work with the gauze was messier than he had wished and his hands had become far bloodier than he would liked have liked... But it stopped. The gushing of blood and magic had stopped. It... Was okay. They were all safe, and Sans was as stable as he could be given the situation.

Blue checked him just to be sure.

0.5/1.0

That.. Wasn't good. Though if Sans was stabilized for now, they may be in the clear. As long as he lasted long enough for them to get home to their healing items - something that their traveling inventory had ran dry of not to long ago thanks to a small altercation in the new Sans' universe - they may be in the clear.

Blue's eyelights flickered up to look at Papyrus; his poor elder brother fidgetting wildly as he inputted the coordinates to their home into the machine, clearly an anxious, panicking mess. "Hey.." Blue sighed, standing up from his place at Sans' side to comfort his brother. He wiped his bloodied hands on his pants before rubbing his back soothingly, feeling every dip of his spine through the fabric of his hoodie. He could clean himself up later. "It's alright.. He's stable." He reassured.

"H-How's he gonna react when he wakes up? He's missing half his arm- what if he doesn't wake up? What if we were too late? What if-" Stretch was growing difficult to understand in his increasing panic, nearly hyperventilating as he frantically pressed buttons on the interface before him.

Blue frowned. This was far from the first time he's had to comfort Papy in a bout of panic. It was... Frequent, actually, during their travels. The worst of it had been when they discovered a sister universe of theirs where all was identical aside from that world's Blue being the victim of a very non-consensual relationship with his Papyrus. That was hard to see. But... He could always manage to calm his brother down. "Papy... Let me look at you."

Stretch knew exactly what that meant - his little brother wanted him to kneel down to be eye level with him. So that's exactly what he did.

Cupping his face with his small, skeletal hands, Blue looked him straight in the eye sockets with a warm and reasurring smile. "You're okay. I'm okay. This other Sans is okay... He's stable, and we'll figure it out from here. He's safe! We helped him! His abuser can't get to him anymore, it's a success." His smile grew to a grin as the other's expression turned from sad and vaguely scared to peaceful and relieved, even smiling a bit himself.

"...Alright. Let's get us home." Stretch snickered as Blue rubbed their nasal bones together affectionately, the smaller giggling as he pulled away.

"Yes Sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, sorry for such a late update. I have fairly constant writers block and when it finally goes away I have no motivation -- ahaha, thanks depression. Either way, I managed to finish the chapter and i'm hoping it's not four years until the next one is done.
> 
> Tune in next time for UF Sans not knowing wtf to do with himself in a safe environment.


	5. Familiarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: (albeit non-typical) self-harm, slightly more graphic sexual content than previous chapters.

The first thing Sans registered as he began to regain consciousness was the panging feeling in his skull, followed by the throbbing just below his elbow. He could only assume he'd blacked out again. But... He didn't usually hurt afterwards. Did something happen? He tried to walk himself through the events leading up to the black out. The two skeletons trying to help him tried to teleport him out, only to fail due to his magic-blocking cuff. He remembered that for sure.

And then... Boss came in? Everything after that was blurry; only remembering that he had been in pain. That wasn't any help.

He curled his toes to make sure he could move. It was probably an odd thing for one to do, but he'd had struggles with sleep paralysis in the past and it had scared him shitless. He always checked before he opened his eyes, just in case. It also revealed that he was barefoot, and that the blanket covering him was lined with wool and felt like a cloud against the bare bones. But... He and Boss certainly didn't own any blankets like this and they didn't seem to have these at the hotel he had been in with the two brothers.

Sans finally peeked his eyes open, brow bones furrowing at the unfamiliar ceiling. It was blue with white stars painted on. That wasn't his ceiling, it definitely wasn't Boss', and it wasn't the hotel. The only other place he ever saw the ceiling of was the back of Grillby's.... This was too colorful, and the painted stars too unprofessional. Grillby's was a gross, cracked ivory. Where the hell was he?

He decided to look over to his right and immdediantly regretted it once he saw the horrific sight next to him. His arm was bandaged up, gauze soaked in red. That was fine. He was used to this. The disturbing part was the lack of arm below the bandage. His right hand, along with the majority of his radius and ulna were just... Gone. Half of his arm was gone.

The skeleton jolted up, scrambling out of bed unsuccessfully and ending up on the floor. He'd lost a lot of blood and magic. It left him vulnerable; easy to attack. Easy prey, like a bird with an injured wing. This couldn't be real, right? He could still feel all of his arm - the feeling of flexing his fingers right there within his reach. It was a dream. He was able to calm himself with this thought, knowing it would be over soon. He would wake up back in the hotel. Or... At home, to the sound of his brother pounding on his bedroom door. He probably had some time to waste before he woke up, so he may as well examine his surroundings.

The bed he had been resting on was in the shape of a rocket ship, red with flame decals on the side for an extra edge. There was a table with toy figures, another with a computer and a door between the two. It must've been a closet. It was surprisingly clean... The set up reminded him of Papyrus' room, though more childish in the air it gave while his own brother's room felt.. Classy, sophisticated, and dark.

This felt like a child's room; something that was oddly nice to see. But... This felt too real. His dreams were normally vivid, especially the bad ones, but nothing like this. These colors were too bright. He noticed too many details about the room. He held his hands- hand, out in front of him, counting his fingers in his go-to dream check. Five. He checked again just to make sure.

Fuck.

If he wasn't dreaming, where the hell was he?! He stood up on shaky legs to try to find any hints he hadn't already picked up on. His eyelights flickered around the room desperately. Waking up with half a limb missing was unnerving, to say the least. He could hear his soul pounding, the noise seemingly resounding through his skull. His breathing began to pick up until--

He stopped. He wasn't sure how he had missed it. Idiot. The brightly-decorated picture frame on the bedside table; the picture inside of two brightly smiling skeletons.

Blue and Stretch.

He plopped himself back down on the floor in front of the bed. He wasn't even in his own universe? Why did he feel so sick? He should be happy, yeah? He was away from Boss. Safe.

Safe, with nothing familiar around him. When he had rescue fantasies it was always a savior informing him about their plan days before it was executed, to give him enough time to pack and for the information to really sink in. Not this jarring transition, where he closed his eyes in his normal life and opened them to this, with absolutely nothing that he knew.

He may have been able to deal with this if he had any choice in the matter. If he had been asked... Well. While he was sober, if he wanted to go with them. Whatever, it never mattered what he wanted anyway

He wasn't even wearing his own clothes (He assumed the pajama set belonged to Blue, given the size and the bubbly rubber ducky print on them). He didn't have his coat; something that had become a comfort item for him. With his clothes gone, he could only make the guess that they'd taken the last tablet of molly he'd had with him too. He didn't have his switchblade. Hand making his way up to his neck, he found that even his necklace was gone. Fuck, even his arm was gone, but that hadn't completely sunk in yet. Everything was gone. Except for the scars left behind from the ordeal...

...And maybe the feelings that had become his normal. Noy everything had to be gone.

In an act of blind desperation for some familiarity, he tugged the pajama pants down around his ankles, the task proving difficult with only one tremulous hand. His hand quickly delved between his legs and immediantly found the piercing that resided over his clit. There was no fear or hesitation as his finger tips pinched the gold piercing between them and tugged, hard, hissing in pain as it pulled against the sensitive, conjured flesh. He repeated the action a few more times before moving on from that particular act of self torture.

He knew it was stupid that this calmed him, that the pain made him feel like maybe there was still something left of the normalcy of home. Knowing it was stupid didn't stop him from prodding at his dry entrance, two fingers pressing in as far as he could manage with the amount of resistance his magic provided. He cringed at the feeling and didn't even give himself time to adjust before curling the digits harshly against his walls. No one else cared, why should he?

Sans gasped as slightly sharpened fingertips pierced the sensitive magic. "B-Boss..." He breathed out. He didn't know why and he didn't want to think about it. He threw his head back - not out of pleasure, but pain, when he thrusted his fingers in and out of himself slowly; like hooks dragging and tearing at his magic. It hurt so, so fucking badly, but he wouldn't stop. No one else ever did. It was the ultimate nostalgia for his native universe.

He never stopped. Only sunk his claws deeper into the flesh of his cunt, desperately scratching and causing as much pain and damage to himself as he could. He sobbed, then screamed as he continued. For not the first or the last time, the loud agonized cry drowned out the sound of the two brothers rushing into the room.

Sans did hear them, however, when Blue yelled at him to stop. The thought popped into Blue's head that maybe those were noises of pleasure, not having much experience in the area, but that noise sounded distinctly pained. Not as bad as what would soon become known between four friends as 'the incident' involving the new Sans' arm, but unpleasant nonetheless.

Sans finally stopped, slowly retracting his hand with a dry sob. He knew to listen to orders, especially ones that were given to him in such a high volume. He didn't show one pinch of shame as the two brothers rushed to kneel at his side. Red magic that most definitely wasn't arousal leaked from his abused hole. It was less the consistency that fluids of arousal should be and more like a thick, clumpy jelly. He just stared his hand, fingers coated in the odd substance. He didn't look at the two related skeletons. They were probably upset with him.

"Wh-Why were you doing that?" Blue stuttered out quietly. He had expected some sort of... Incident from how jarring this whole situation would be to Sans - between the new universe and the new lack of half an arm, but this was not what he was expecting. At all. They'd hidden all the knives in anticipation for the worst. How could have they prepared for this?

Sans just stared at his dirtied hand.

Stretch seemed to notice what was techically the magical flesh version of blood dripping from the smaller skeletons cunt, and frowned. "...We should get ya cleaned up. Is that okay?" The Papyrus made sure to keep his voice soft. He didn't want to trigger anything else after his breakdown.

He nodded. He didn't have a legitimate arguement for why they shouldn't.

With a nod, Stretch carefully lifted him up and flinched when the Sans in his arms wheezed in pain. "I'm sorry..." He muttered. He carried him off to the bathroom, Blue following close behind. They could interrogate their guest later once he had been soothed. Asking him questions in this moment might make this worse.

He set him down on the edge of the tub and promptly left the room. Sans would be confused if he wasn't in such a daze.

You see, the two traveling brothers had a rule when it came to situations of abuse such as this: if a Sans was the abuser in their guest's universe, Blue would fall back and let Stretch take the lead in the care until they were sure the other was stable and could seperate the two in their mind. It worked the other way around, too, leaving Blue to be the main caretaker for Sans. At least for now.

"Is it okay if I undress you?"

Sans once again nodded to give his consent. Being naked in front of someone stopped being a sacred act trust for him long ago. Strangers saw him without any clothes on all the time, this was no different.

"Tell me if I make you uncomfortable, alright?"

Another wordless nod as Blue removed the pajama pants dangling around Sans' ankles, then moved to unbutton the top. He made sure he didn't move too fast... The last thing he needed was for his actions to come off as predatory. He slipped his arms out of the sleeves with caution, not wanting to hurt the stump of the injured arm in the process.

Blue was just as unphased by the bare skeleton as Sans seemed to be about being so. Not even when his more intimate parts were still conjured. And then he remembered - right, the piercing kept him from dissipating them. "Do you want me to take the piercing out for you?"

"Don't care."

"You have to care.." Blue frowned. "Yes or no?"

Sans thought, for a moment. It had been a few years since he hadn't had those parts. While getting rid of it may sooth the throbbing pain from his self-inflicted injuries, it would be leaving him with one less familiar thing. He couldn't deal with that. "N-No.."

Blue hesitated. Despite his concern he didn't go against his double's will. He should respect his wishes, as unhealthy as he thought they were. They could work on that later. He reminded himself that recovery would be a long process for the new Sans, with as much as he'd been through.

The smaller reached over his guest to run the bath, checking the water temperature about five-times too many. The water had to be soothingly warm, but there was a thin line where comforting warmth became a little too warm and--- ...Blue may be worrying a bit too much. He lifted Sans off of the edge of the tub and slowly lowered him into the shallow water.

Sans watched as the clear liquid between his legs turn a faint pink from the magic that bled from him. He didn't have anywhere else to look, really, except maybe the tiled wall. He didn't want to look at Blue and see the worry or pity that no doubt flooded his sockets.

"Sans?"

Well, so much for not looking at the other version of himself. The second he spoke he jolted up to look at him. "Yeah?"

"Everytime we rescue someone, we give them a nickname to help tell them apart from my brother and I. Like... Puppy, or sky, or comic. Those are just a few. But it's a lot less confusing than calling two different monsters Sans! That's why Stretch calls me Blue and I call him, well, Stretch." Blue rambled on, kneeling down in front of the tub with his arms resting on the side. The little Sans really didn't know how to condense what he wanted to say. "So I think we should give you a nickname too. Is 'Red' okay? Your magic is red and it seemed like a lot of stuff in your universe was red too. If that's too much of a sensitive nickname you can pick one for yourself--"

"It's fine," 'Red' said quickly. He wasn't annoyed and Blue's lengthy speech, perse, but it was hard for him to process it all. Overwhelming. "Red is a good nickname."

Blue grinned. He seemed pleased with the agreement. "Let's get you washed up, yeah?" He said when the water in the tub finally covered his pelvis - not wanting the still fresh stump to get too incredibly wet. Blue swiftly turned off the water and grabbed a fresh washcloth from the sink and doused it in a bit of soap. Watermelon scented, to be exact. Much too fruity for Red's liking but he wouldn't complain. He wouldn't complain at being shown mercy and kindness, as confusing as it was.

Red stayed perfectly still as his dirtied bones were wiped down with the sickly-sweet smelling soap. Blue asked a few too many times if he was okay with this, if he was comfortable, if he wanted him to stop. It was becoming rather annoying. Still, he didn't complain. As borderline infuriating as Blue's compassion was, at least he wasn't being forced into another hellish situation. This other Sans was nice. That was good... Right?

He was only uncomfortable once, really, when the other Sans needed to clean between his legs. He wouldn't have cared any other time, but right now it hurt. "Sorry," Blue had muttered under his breath before continuing his cleaning. It was probably for the best. Besides his pathetic washcloth bath he had before his trip to New Home, he hadn't bathed or showered in what he could only guess was a week or more. ...Depending on how long he'd been out for.

"Hey, uh, how long w-was I passed out for?" He asked, voice hoarse from screaming and previous lack of use.

"Two days. You.. Lost a lot of blood." Skeletons didn't have a lot to start out with, after all. Blue wrung out the soapy washcloth and pulled the plug to let the water begin to drain, carefully rinsing the remaining soap off of Red with the shower head.

Red shivered, the bones not enveloped by the warm water becoming rather chilled. He was thankful this was over and he could go back to the warmth of clothes. ...his clothes, hopefully.

"I'll go get you something to wear!" Blue exclaimed. He scrambled out of the room only to slide back in with an air of urgency, a lump of fabric tucked under his arm. Red could only assume his speed tied in with not wanting to leave him alone. It wasn't a surprise the other didn't trust him in that way. Hell, he didn't trust himself.

Red was helped out of the bathtub, being presented with a large red sweatshirt and what seemed to be his own shorts. The sweatshirt may as well be a dress on him, hem stopping mid-femur and collar sliding over to expose some of his clavicle. It must've been Stretch's. And... Huh. It smelt faintly of weed, like it had been washed once but not well enough.

He wondered if he could get any of that for himself.

Blue helped him slip the shorts on. His legs were still too weak to do such a complicated task without assistance, between the other day's mass loss of blood and magic and the hunger that threatened to crumble him to dust. ...Still, he wouldn't ask his saviors for food. He didn't want to be greedy. They would give him some if they wanted to.

There was, however, one thing he would be willing to ask for. "D-Do you have my necklace?" That wasn't a greedy question, was it? It was his, after all. He wasn't asking for something of theirs.

Blue's eyes widened in what Red assumed was realization, before he darted out of the room again. "I'll get it!" He called back to him.

He didn't seem offended, so he took that to mean it wasn't rude to ask. He didn't know this world's rules, or these two brothers' expectations of him. That.. Was concerning. He could get himself punished pretty easily if he didn't know what there was to abide by. He'd play it safe by staying quiet and compliant. Let them move him where ever they wanted.

He turned to look at himself in the mirror above the sink. It was at an odd height - not quite high enough for Stretch, and not quite low enough for him or Blue. It was weird. He could still see his face, though. And damn, he looked worse than usual. Numb... Unfeeling. Expressionless. Dead.

He checked the pockets of his shorts on the off chance he may find the single tablet of molly he'd stashed there. Nothing, of course.

Just his luck.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, you made it! Thanks for reading despite the fucked up tags (or, because of the fucked up tags if such applies to you). I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! I have more planned, though... It goes quite a different dirrection than you'd probably expect. But. I'm rather slow to update.


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